Do I Have To Cry For You?
by hollow-ambitions
Summary: ...Understand, we'll go hand-in-hand, but we'll walk alone in fear... -If it's not okay, then it's not the end. A sequel to Lord Knows I Can't Change, set three years later.
1. The Letter

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**_Please read _**_Lord Knows I Can't Change **before reading this story!**_

            _Somebody once told me that if it is not alright, then it is not the end, that it can not be the end. I do not agree with this statement, really. When you lose somebody that you cared for, it is never "alright" again, it is just different, it becomes different. You become different. Does this mean that there is never really an end to pain?_

He looked up when a squeal from somewhere behind him danced into his ears. Smiling, he rested his eyes back on the letter.

            _I guess that there is not. The pain that consumes you when somebody you love dies never really leaves you; it stays with you until the day that you die. It hits you in waves, and those waves vary in size and vary in the amount of ache that is thrown over you each time._

"_Jack_! Honestly, young man, you are going to drive your mother and me insane." The blacksmith leaned down and wrapped his larger hand around the glass that his sons' smaller, chubbier fingers were wrapped firmly around. The child cried out in annoyance as his father ripped the object loose from his hands and hurriedly reached up, trying to reclaim his toy. He sighed. "Jack, _no, a tankard is _not _something that you play with." Will rose an eyebrow when he heard snickering and turned around to glare at the source of it. The older man leaned his head on his hand and grinned innocently at his son._

            "Is there a problem, dear William?"

            Will was not amused. "This is _not funny, dad."_

            "Never said that it was, son, never said that it was." Will crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at his father. He still held the tankard in his left hand and knew, without a doubt, that Jack was circling around him trying to come up with the best way to get it back.

            "But you're laughing." He rose his arm when Jack jumped up in an effort to snatch the glass. He hit the ground with a cry of frustration and kicked at Will's ankle. The older man frowned but didn't move. "And so you must find it funny." Bootstraps' grin widened as Jack yet again kicked at his fathers' shin.

            "Not at the situation or at the fact that you're being abused," he corrected. "I'm amused with the fact that your son acts just as the man that he is named after does." 

            "_Yes_," Will answered dryly. "Remind me to thank Jack Sparrow when I am given the –_Ouch!" He looked down and glared as his son smiled harmlessly at him and sat Indian-style at his feet with an innocent expression. "… -_Chance_." Will finished and Jack giggled at his fathers' irritated face. Bootstrap shook his head and laughed softly as Will rose his glare to him. Bootstrap purposely frowned in fear and held his hands up as if he were surrendering. Will rolled his eyes at his fathers' antics and set the tankard back down on the table before leaning down to gather up the irritated two-year-old in his arms. The boy objected and Will merely just tightened his hold._

            "I think that I'll give him to Elizabeth now," Wills' tone was exasperated and Bootstrap smiled in amusement as he twirled the fountain pen around with his fingers. He turned back around to the table and rested his hand on the paper as he obviously started to read, or read over, something or another. Will frowned and cocked his head to the side in an attempt to try to see what his father was working so keenly on. "What are you writing?" He asked and watched as Bootstrap simply shrugged his shoulders and made no effort to turn around. "A letter?"

            The fountain pen stopped moving. "You could say," he answered. Will shifted Jacks' weight to his other arm when the boy discovered that the tankard was within reach whilst leaning against Wills' other side. He cried out in frustration when his father once again kept him from reclaiming his toy.

            "To who?" Will watched as the fountain pen halted once more and Bootstrap scratched at his neck. The older mans' eyes roamed over the letters on the many pages that were sprawled out before him and he shook his head with a slight sigh and set the fountain pen down on the desk. He started to gather the pages up.

            "An old friend," Bootstrap answered as he stacked the papers in order and then stood to his feet and turned to look at Will and his grandson. "I'll finish later." Will narrowed his eyes at his father and Bootstrap knew that the lad did not believe that it was for "an old friend".

            He shrugged, though, apparently not pressing the matter. "I'm going to go put Jack down for a nap. After that perhaps we could spend some time together. Just you and me." Bootstrap was skeptical.

            "What about Elizabeth?"

            "Like I said, dad, just you and me. Quality time." 

            The older man shook his head and crossed his arms as he smiled wryly. "Now, now, William, you know Elizabeth _loathes_ it to be left behind. It's a beautiful day, why don't _you _two_ spend some time together? You haven't had much of a chance since Jack was born." Will opened his mouth to protest but Bootstrap held a hand up and Will slowly shut it with a puzzled expression. "If I can handle the _real_ Jack Sparrow, then I can certainly handle your son." He walked towards Will and gently pulled Jack from his arms into his own hold and then smiled at Will as he ushered him to the door. "Now shoo." _

            "Don't I kind of _need_ Elizabeth to spend an evening with her?" He asked as he turned around. Bootstrap shifted his grandson to his other arm and smiled at Wills' expression. 

            "I'll fetch her, you just wait outside." Will frowned as his father turned to leave and reached out to grasp his arm before he could start walking away. Bootstrap stopped and turned to peer at his son. 

            "What?"

            Will released his arm but not his eyes. "Why are you so eager to get us out of the house?" Bootstraps' eyes seemed to lose their focus and Will was surprised that his father did not fall to the ground in a heap of despair. He had seen that look before. He _knew_ that look, had _felt_ that look three years earlier when his father had stumbled back into his life. It was the look of a soul that was dying bit by excruciating bit. 

_"He seems okay to me." _

_"You didn't see his eyes."_

_"His eyes?__ What about his eyes, Will?" _

Jacks' eyes had held that look when he had shown up at Port Royale missing Bootstrap with pain that was ungodly dreadful three years ago.

_"I don't **know what **Jacks' eyes held… -Pain? Regret? Sorrow?... –I don't… -I don't **know**."_

_"All of the above. His eyes, **your eyes, held all of the above."**_

_"Jack misses my father."_

And his father missed his mother.

            "…-you two to spend time together." Will blinked the thoughts away and looked at his father with a raised eyebrow and confused eyes. 

            "What did you say?" 

            Bootstrap looked at his son with pained eyes. "I said that I'm _not_ _trying _to_ get you out of the house, I just think that it is important for you two to spend time together." Will nodded and Bootstrap smiled faintly before turning on his heel. He made his way to Will and Elizabeth's' bedroom and knocked quietly on the door; asking the lass to come out when she responded to the sound. She did so a few seconds later and immediately took her son into her arms and hugged the child tightly before walking over to Will and placing a small kiss on the blacksmiths' cheek._

            Bootstrap smiled at them. "You and William are taking the afternoon off, Elizabeth." Elizabeth frowned and looked at Will, who just shrugged in response. Her eyes went back to Bootstrap and her face scrunched up in confusion.

            "We are?" Bootstrap nodded. "What about Jack?" Bootstrap grinned and Elizabeth slowly shook her head and rose a hand. "Oh, no, you can't possibly watch Jack… -He's wild, William." 

            "Believe me, love, if I can keep up with Captain Jack Sparrow, Jack William Turner will be no hassle. Besides, he's tired," he gestured with his hand and Elizabeth and Will couldn't help but smile as the two-year-old yawned, "so he'll more than likely sleep while you are gone. I'll be fine. He'll be fine." He removed Jack from Elizabeth's' tight hold and the child immediately wrapped his short arms around his grandfathers neck and leaned his head on his shoulder. "Go and have fun." Will and Elizabeth exchanged quick glances with one another before smiling at Bootstrap and making their way to the front door. Within seconds they were gone and Bootstrap shut the door with a small sigh. Silence. He had, once again, suggested silence. Sometimes he wondered how he even remembered to breathe. 

            Bootstrap tightened his hold around the sleeping toddler as he quietly made his way to Jacks' room. He passed the table in the corner and couldn't help but stop and stare at the stack of papers that held empty words and senseless emotions. He practically had to force himself to turn away from the infinite letter. 

In the corner of his mind, Bootstrap dimly wondered, as he laid his grandson down in his bed, what Jack, what his best friend, was doing. 

**_To Be Continued…_**

****

**AN: So there's chapter one of the sequel to _Lord Knows. Um, basically this entire plot is laid down but I do not know how frequently I will be able to update it because I am extremely busy with school. Bear with me people, I'm trying._**

**Thanks to Pirate, Elf-Vulcan and Ilya with their help on names for later characters!**

**Chapters 1 and 2 of _Lord Knows are edited._**

**Look for an update on _Pirates of that _****_Warm Sea Place_****_! _****mid-weekish****.**

**Please review on your way out! **


	2. Images of the Past

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**Chapter Two**

_            I guess that there is not. The pain that consumes you when somebody you love dies never really leaves you; it stays with you until the day that you die. It hits you in waves, and those waves vary in size and vary in the amount of ache that is thrown over you each time._

Bootstrap twirled the fountain pen around with his fingers and frowned.

            _I guess that there is not. The pain that consumes you when somebody you love dies never really leaves you; it stays with you until the day that you die. It hits you in waves, and those waves vary in size and vary in the amount of ache that is thrown over you each time. The pain does not leave you when you die. What's the difference between the two, anyway? Life and death… -Show me the difference that separates these two states, because I very much want to know. _

He paused and silently read over the words.

            _I know that the pain does not leave you when you die because I have been dead. _

Another pause.

            _The Aztec Gold curse made you not among the living and so you could not die, but neither were you dead. You supposedly felt nothing while under it, not the spray of the sea or the taste of rum, not the softness of a warm bed or the warmth of the sun. Feeling nothing would mean that you could feel no pain, feel no feeling, show no emotion… -Is that not considered death? I do not care what the Heathen Gods said, that damned curse made you dead. Yet, while under it, even though my heart did not beat, it still ached. I was dead, regardless of what those dull-witted Gods say, and I still felt that pain that I did while I was alive. Show me the difference that separates life and death, Wren, because I would very much like to know._

Bootstraps' eyes roamed over the words as if they, or the paper, would tell him a difference.

The only thing that he heard was the mocking silence that he had so idiotically suggested. 

            He set the fountain pen down on top of the paper and leaned back in his chair. It creaked faintly as Bootstrap allowed his eyes to wander over the many pieces of paper that were laying sprawled out and in no particular order in front of him. Nonsense was all that it was. Complete and utter nonsense.

_"Over your life and your wife; you threw everything away for the sea! You killed mother! You didn't care, you **didn't**…"_

He forcefully shut his eyes.

_"I hope you burn in hell for this and for what you did to Jack! You deserve hell, you all do! You deserve to be cursed and remain cursed!"_

Perhaps he was burning in hell for what he had done to both his wife and his son.

Perhaps he deserved hell. Perhaps the letter that was meant to be but one page was his hell. 

            Bootstrap sighed jadedly as he opened his eyes and rested them on the dancing flame of the candle that was sitting below the window that was above his table. He marveled at the light as it moved to the rhythm of the breeze that was blowing in from the sea before going completely out and plunging the room into darkness. Bootstrap rose his eyes to the window a few seconds later and his breath caught in his throat.

The Black Pearl rested at the docks just a few feet away from their home.  

Bootstrap frowned.

            Jack knew better than to not hide the Pearl, especially with both the Commodore and Governor having clear views of the docks, so why was she docked where the whole town could effortlessly see her? Flames flew by the windows and Bootstrap vaguely wondered why Jack was raiding Port Royale. He jumped from his thoughts and was on his feet in an instant when he heard glass shattering from somewhere in the small house. He unsheathed his sword and slowly started to make his way through the dark living room. He stopped when he heard more glass shattering and tried to pinpoint what room it was coming from. A child's scream snaked into his ears and Bootstraps' eyes widened when the man realized that the noise was coming from Jacks' room. He hastily ran from the living room towards his grandsons' room and grabbed the handle on his door. It wouldn't open. Jack screamed again and Bootstrap hurled his sword between the wall and the door and slammed his body weight down onto the lock and sighed with relief when he heard it break. He quickly withdrew his sword and kicked the door open with his sword erect and ready to pierce the skin of whomever it was that had caused the child's screams.

There was nobody there.

            The hand that was clutching the sword lowered faintly as the man frowned and allowed his eyes to roam over the darkened room. Moonlight poured in from the window and highlighted the shards of glass that were lying in every direction. Bootstrap looked briefly at the shattered, jaded pieces before raising his eyes to the window and narrowing them when he saw that the Black Pearl was still in the docks with men running on and off of her in a great haste. Screams and gunfire echoed in the distance as Bootstrap slowly walked to the window with his sword raised and ready to pierce if the need should arise. Faint shadows of blood speckled the window sill and there were indentations in the rocky path that was outside of Jacks' window. Bootstrap shook his head and rose his eyes back to the Pearl.

Jack had just kidnapped Will and Elizabeth's' child. 

Jack was raiding Port Royale.

            Bootstrap shook the ghostly thoughts away and sheathed his sword and quickly turned and ran from the room and out of the front door. He ignored the screams of fear and the shouts of fury and the smell of burning flesh and blood as he turned the left corner of the house, which led to the docks. In the back of his mind something was pulling at him to go back and make sure that Will and Elizabeth were alright, that nothing had happened to them, that that feeling in his gut that something _had_ was incorrect. He cursed the thought and wordlessly willed it away as he withdrew his sword and struck at a pirate that was running by him. The man gasped and dropped whatever it was that he was holding before crumpling to the ground onto his stomach. Bootstrap kicked the man onto his back to get a better look at his face.

The man was not a part of Jack's crew.

Or at least, was not three years ago.

            Bootstrap cursed to himself as he turned and sprinted off in the direction of the docks. He slammed the handle of his sword down onto a pirate that was holding firmly onto a little girl's arm and threatening her with a dagger of some sorts. The child cried out when the man fell and dashed off towards the town, screaming for her mother and father. Bootstrap fell to the ground on his back with a sickening thud as the man grabbed his ankle and forcefully yanked him down. The pirate reached for the dagger and growled as Bootstrap kicked it away with his foot before rolling in the opposite direction and jumping to his feet. He rose his sword and prepared to pierce his skin when the moonlight came back out from behind the clouds and Bootstrap caught sight of the man's face.

Bootstraps' mouth virtually hit the ground as he lowered his sword in total shock.

The man smiled at him as the blood on his dagger shimmered in the moonlight.

            "Hello, Captain Turner." Bootstrap could say nothing nor do anything but stare at the man.

Seth.

**_To Be Continued…_**

**AN: Kind of short on time so I have to make this quick. Hi. Now we're getting into action!! Woohoo!! Check for an update mid-weekish.**

**Thanks to the four that have read and reviewed thus far.**

**Please review on your way out! **


	3. Crimson Memories

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**Chapter Three**

            The man stepped to the side to avoid a hammer that Elizabeth had hurled at him and swiftly snatched it up when it hit the ground. Elizabeth cursed silently to herself and quickly jumped backwards when the stranger attempted to slam the hammer down onto her shoulder. Her eyes roamed desperately around the Armory in search of something to hold the man off with when he lunged again and Elizabeth stumbled to the right to escape the blow. She turned on her heel to run in the opposite direction and snatched up another hammer along the way. She ran to the door and stopped with the object hidden behind her back and frowned at the man, who, in turn, was grinning madly.

            The man chuckled. "Giving up, lass?" Elizabeth purposely deepened her frown and the man's grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear as he started to walk towards her. Elizabeth stood her ground and didn't even flinch when the man's face was mere inches from her own. "Good choice." Her expression turned to one of anger and she grabbed the man's arm to keep him in place as she brought her right arm up and slammed the hammer down onto his head. The man's eyes seemed to cloud over before he fell lifelessly at Elizabeth's feet. The lass kicked him off of the stairs and away from the door and smiled in satisfaction when he stopped rolling and lay limply in the middle of the room. She ran down the stairs and snatched up his sword before making her way to where Will and another stranger were dueling.

She froze when she heard a child's ungodly cry.

            "A life for a life," a foreign voice said from behind her. Elizabeth locked her eyes on Will even though the blacksmith had his back to her and shut them tightly when something hit the ground with a harsh sob. "Not the life we want, but it will do." Elizabeth gradually opened her eyes. "It certainly will do… -For now. Boone." The man Will had been dueling immediately sheathed his sword and walked past Will and Elizabeth and to the man that was behind them. "Let's get back to the Pearl." Elizabeth turned around as soon as she heard the door slam shut and the strangers, well, the _stranger and the man called Boone, fleeing from the scene. Her eyes locked on the little, tranquil body that was lying in blood. _

            Elizabeth flinched when Will placed his hand on her shoulder. "I did that," she said softly.

            He gently squeezed her shoulder. "That man did that," Will corrected, "you did not." Elizabeth shifted her eyes from the dead little girl to the dead man that she had murdered only minutes earlier with a hammer. The hand that was resting on her shoulder momentarily tightened its grip before falling off and back to Wills' side. Elizabeth didn't look away from the man.

            "What?" Elizabeth asked. His eyes roamed over the little girl's motionless body and at the pool of blood that surrounded her. He slowly shook his head at the image and opened his mouth in disbelief before shutting it and narrowing his eyes in uncertainty.

_"Let's get back to the Pearl."_

Will was guessing that "the Pearl" was short for the Black Pearl.

A ship that was Captain Jack Sparrow's freedom, true love, home and life.

Captain Jack Sparrow was Will's friend and, in some ways and on some levels, brother.

_"On our return to Port Royal, I granted you clemency and this is how you thank me? By throwing in your lot with **him?! He's a **pirate**!"**_

            "And a good man." Will stated softly as he sheathed his sword and started to the door. Elizabeth watched her husband with confused eyes before warily navigating her way around the murdered child and man and following him out of the door and out of the Armory. The intense smell of burning flesh and blood hit them head-on as Will's walking turned into running and soon both were racing towards the docks as if the devil himself was chasing them. Screams and shouts and guns biting people echoed in her ears as Elizabeth continued to chase after her husband. She raised her eyes from Will's form to peer into the distance and sighed with relief when she saw that they were nearing the docks. 

Sure enough, just as the man had said, the Black Pearl was there.

            Not noticing that the blacksmith had stopped, Elizabeth rammed into the back of him and Will stumbled forward as Elizabeth struggled to regain her footing. He grabbed her arm to help steady her and she looked at him and Will nodded.

            "Something happened to Jack Sparrow." Elizabeth frowned at her husband's words. "Jack and his crew… -They wouldn't do this."

            "I know," she agreed. Pirate or not, Jack Sparrow was not a man to kill just for the sake of having crimson on silver, and both Elizabeth and Will knew this exceedingly well. Elizabeth suddenly frowned and looked at Will with frantic eyes. "Where are William and Jack?!" 

_"A life for a life.__ Not the life we wanted, but it will do. It certainly will do… -For now."_

Will frowned at the words and at Elizabeth before turning on his heel and sprinting off down the left side of the docks.

Elizabeth followed.****

*** * ***

            Bootstrap dodged the tilt of the man's sword before raising his own and lunging at him. Seth sidestepped and chuckled at his former captain. "You never _could fight well." Seth effortlessly blocked another strike. "That's why I'm surprised that you lasted as captain for as long as you did." Bootstrap narrowed his eyes at the man._

            "You're nothing but a traitor, Seth." 

            "Is that supposed to make me feel bad, William?" He lowered his sword in hilarity. "I had every right to betray you, I did."

            "Says who?"

            "Me," Seth retorted with a smug grin and Bootstrap frowned in fury as he lunged at him again. Seth parried the strike and swept the tilt of his sword down the length of Bootstrap's arm before the man could even have time to react. Bootstrap hastily switched hands and jumped at Seth and growled as the man dodged the strike. He tossed his sword up in the air and caught the blade and slammed the handle down onto the hand that was holding the sword. Seth's weapon immediately fell to the ground and Bootstrap snatched it up and held the tilt to the man's neck as he turned the other sword back around and held the tilt to his stomach.

            Bootstrap grinned at him. "Who did you say couldn't fight well?" Seth smiled as Bootstrap's eyes widened briefly before the man fell to the ground completely unconscious.

            "You." The two men laughed and Seth rose his eyes to them.

            "Good job, Jaden." The man nodded and Seth looked back down at Bootstrap. "I'll see you later, Captain Turner." He ushered for Boone and Jaden and the two men hurriedly followed their captain back to the Pearl.

*** * ***

_            "You're leaving." His hands immediately dropped the articles of clothing that he had been trying to fit inside of the bag that would go with him. "You weren't supposed to be leaving for two days, William." His eyes unconsciously wandered the length of the worn bag before reaching for the clothing once more. The younger woman crossed her arms heatedly at the silence that her husband made no effort to break. "William?" She called once more, her voice holding anger, and William could not blame her for it. He would be angry, too. ****_

_            He wordlessly stuffed another shirt inside of the bag, not even bothering to fold it like he had previous ones. "I was going to leave a note." His tone was low and nonchalant, as if the fact that he was going to leave behind words was enough to make his sudden running-off alright. Wren frowned as she watched him stuff in another shirt._

_            "A note?" She repeated in an incredulous tone. "You were going to leave behind a **note?!" William said nothing as he pulled the strings at the top of the bag together before tying them tightly into a knot, mindful to leave one loop big enough so that he could carry the bag on his shoulder if needed. His right hand reached for his coat but was instantly stopped when Wren snatched it up. William sighed as he turned to look at his wife.**_

_            "Wren," he called softly, "give me my coat so that I can leave."_

_            "You were going to walk out on me, William, weren't you?" He reached for his coat and Wren effectively pulled it closer to her. He sighed as his hand dropped back down at his side. "Leaving a note is walking out, William!" She was close to tears now. "How could you? Could you not stand me for two more days? Were you afraid that the child would be born before you could get away? Is that it?" She yanked the coat behind her back when William once again grabbed at it. Her eyes noiselessly wandered over her husband's. "You **bastard**."_

_            "Wren-"_

_            "I agreed to you leaving because I understood you needed space, yet you can't even **wait two more days?!" William said nothing. What could he say? Wren had every right to hate him. Hell, even **he** hated him. Walking out on his pregnant wife… -Who ****wouldn't hate him? The sea's call was just too great a call and temptation to ignore for another two days. It would have killed him had he had to.**_

_            "Wren, please, just let me explain…" He pleaded with his wife, his low, nonchalant tone long gone, dead as soon as the tears started falling from his wife's eyes. He was the cause of them. _

_            "More excuses? More lies?" She yelled. "It's bad enough you're lying to your child, William, making him think of you as a merchant sailor when you're a damned pirate!" William allowed his eyes to wander her trembling form, pausing briefly on the bulge to her stomach, before forcefully breaking them away and snatching the bag that lay on their bed. He threw the bigger of the two loops over his right shoulder and turned wordlessly away from Wren and towards the door. He rested his hand on the handle and stopped briefly to see if Wren would protest. Nothing. William blinked back his tears as he pushed the door open and silently walked out, permanently leaving his wife and his life behind him. Wren covered her face with William's coat and barely heard the door clicking shut as she finally set her tears free. _

_William's walking turned into sprinting and his sprinting turned into jogging and soon he was running from his home to the docks._

_He tightly shut his eyes as he unconsciously quickened his pace and would have run off of the docks entirely if it not had been for the hand that flew out and grabbed his shoulder. _

_            "Easy there, mate. __Pearl__'s not leavin' ye." _

_            "No," he slowly opened his eyes, "she's not." The other man nodded with a proud smile at the mention of his ship. "Seth?" He turned back around to meet William's gaze once more, frowning when he finally noticed the remnants of tears._

_            "William, what's wro-"_

_            "Thanks." Seth watched in confusion as William hurriedly boarded the __Pearl__. He was below decks not even five seconds later._

*** * ***

            "William! You're alright!" His eyes roamed around his surroundings warily; finally figuring that they were still at the docks. He hesitantly rose a hand to his head and winced when his fingers brushed over the bruise that was granted by whatever it was that he had been knocked out with. "What happened?" Elizabeth asked as she and Will gently helped to ease the man into a sitting position. Bootstrap blinked hazily and narrowed his eyes at the dried blood that literally saturated his arm. 

The wound still stung.

Bootstrap blinked once more.

            "They took Jack." His voice was trembling. Will and Elizabeth frowned. "Seth and… and… -_Somebody_, they took Jack. I tried to get him back but they knocked me out… or, something... -I don't, I don't remember… -They just… -Seth took Jack." _Every wound __still stung! Blood was everywhere! He __felt it! Didn't Elizabeth and Will _see_ _it_?! Bootstrap slowly shook his head and rose his eyes up from his bloody arm, frowning at their confused expressions and concerned eyes. _

            "Who is Seth?" Will questioned softly and Bootstrap's gaze immediately fell back down to his arm. 

            "Seth is..." He trailed off and licked his lips. "We have to save Jack… -Both of them. Jack Sparrow and Jack Turner." Bootstrap slowly shook his head and returned his eyes back to Elizabeth and Will. "Seth is… -We _have_ to save Jack Sparrow and Jack Turner."

**_To Be Continued…_**

****

**AN: ****1/13/04**** I rewrote parts of this chapter, and even started the flashback early. Three and four will _not _be combined as previously thought, but four _will _be rewritten. I'll work on 4 and get it up and then I'll work on 7 and have it up ASAP. Thanks for your patience.   ******

 


	4. Scars that Bleed

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**Chapter Four**

            It had been years since he had had the fabric bound around his wrist and hand. It quickly had become second-nature to him. He had soon grown to forget its presence altogether. 

His fingertips lightly grazed over the brown fabric and he frowned at its worn appearance.

He remembered now, though.

            Piracy had left its mark on the cloth. Salt from the sea and nicks from the Pearl had made the once untarnished fabric brittle and rough. The strips that were laced securely about and around his fingers had tiny, brown strings hanging from them. Scratches and scrapes covered nearly every inch of the fabric and it had even begun to come undone around the bottom edges. He smiled sadly. It was so much unlike the cloth that had been bound around his wrist all those years ago. He was genuinely surprised that it had not once fallen off during any of those years. Perhaps the cloth had somehow managed to congeal itself to his skin, or whatever it was that lay underneath of it. Not much of anything had been there. Nothing but blood, mostly, and torn, dying skin… and pain… pain had been there, he vividly remembered the pain. 

_"He's not so great now, eh, Jack? He betrayed you he did, just as he betrayed me. No one to save you from the pain now, Jack, no one."_

Torn and bleeding and ripping and dying and crying _skin_…

            His breath caught in his throat as he slowly started to run his fingers along the bindings in a flirtatious manner. It would not surprise him in the least bit if nothing other than rotten flesh and bone lay underneath of the cloth. 

Torn and bleeding and ripping and dying and crying _skin_… 

He silently ran a finger over one of the many knots that held the cloth in place. He frowned at the knot.

What if there _was skin? What if that skin was __still ripping and bleeding and crying? _

            He was not there to bind his wrist with more fabric. He was not there to rid Jack of the demons that so viciously tore his skin to shreds; causing tears of both blood and fury to flow from dying eyes. 

But one of the demons was. 

Jack's fingers immediately stopped their journey and he stared wide-eyed at his wrist as if the devil himself were peering back at him and whispering words of death.

            "Jack? Somethin' wrong with your wrist, Cap'n?" The female pirate frowned when Jack made no effort to acknowledge that she was there and that she was speaking to him. Ana Maria sat up straight and cocked her head to the side in an attempt to make out Jack's facial expression. Cursing silently to herself about his hair being in the way, she pushed herself up from the corner of her cell where she had been sitting with a bowed head for God only knew how long and made her way to the bars that separated her from her captain. She wrapped her hands around two of them and frowned once more when the man did not even budge. "Jack? Jack, what is it? What's wrong?" 

            "Nothing."  Her frown only deepened at the hollowness that the word held. She had never heard the proud pirate captain's tone be anything other than his usual nonchalant, drunken pitch, and it frightened her. Something was _not_ right, something was wrong… -Jack did not fool her, not for a second. "Nothing at all, love." Ana Maria had to literally keep herself from rolling her eyes in response to his words.

            "You lie, Cap'n."

            "Do I now?"

            She unconsciously narrowed her eyes at the man. "_Yes, you do." _

            "How am I, love?"

            "Something's wrong, Jack. You know damn well it's not "nothing"." She paused. "If nothing's wrong, Cap'n, then why're you staring at your wrist?"

            "Is it suddenly against the law to peer at my limbs whenever I wish to?" His tone remained hollow; mixing with emotions that Ana Maria did not even want to try to identify. God only knew what was going on inside of the pirate captain's head. That was a territory that few were familiar with. She sometimes even doubted Jack's own familiarity with it.

            "Why do you feel you must lie to me, Jack?" Try as she might, Ana Maria could not help the hint of sadness that was laced around her words. Did Jack not trust her? Obviously the man did on at least some level, being that he had made her first mate over Gibbs. This was a different kind of trust, though. This was the kind of trust that friends had for one another, that feeling that, no matter the issue, whether they think it to be petty or massive; they know that they can confide in each other. She considered Jack her friend… did he not consider her one as well?

Perhaps the pirate captain _was incapable of loving anything other than the sea and his ship._

            "You wouldn't lie to William." She watched as Jack slowly ran his fingers across the brown fabric that was bound around his right wrist and hand before finally allowing his left arm to drop back down at his side. His eyes remained on the brown fabric that undoubtedly was causing him pain. Ana Maria licked her lips. "Would you? You wouldn't lie to William, Jack… why do you need to lie to me? I know something's wrong." The pirate captain slowly shook his head and Ana Maria could have sworn that she saw a grin gradually appearing on the man's face. Jack shut his eyes as he rose his head to the ceiling of his soiled jail cell. His grin only grew wider.

            "I've lied to William before, Ana Maria." 

            Ana Maria ignored his words. Her hands tightened their grip around the bars and she pulled herself as closely as she could to them. "Captain Sparrow, what is wrong?" She made sure that no traces of sadness were evident this time. She would get no where with the pirate captain whilst holding sorrow in her tone. He would sense it and end up ignoring her in order to no longer hurt her. Silence. Perhaps he had _already heard it? Ana Maria sighed and slowly shut her eyes. Damn the pirate for being such a hard-headed fool. Why couldn't he just __say when he was hurting? __Say when he was bleeding?__ Cry when he was dying? The man had been a pirate since he was fourteen-years-old… even the most simplest of men could see the tears and the pain and the words that he had so carefully locked away inside of his mind._

His eyes deceived him. His eyes were tired and his eyes were empty. He could change everything else about himself to appear unscathed, but he could not change his eyes.

Ana Maria sighed again. 

What was she to do with a pirate captain that longed to cry but was much too proud to even frown?

            "They hurt me." Her eyes were resting back on Jack within a matter of seconds. The man had not yet lowered his head nor had he opened his eyes. "It's rather humorous, actually. What they did." His words still held that emptiness tightly to them, seemingly covering up emotions that Jack did not want Ana Maria to hear, that Jack did not want to show or to even feel. He was a pirate captain that was immune to emotion… he had neither a use nor a need to feel what non-pirates felt.

Life.

            "'They'?" Ana Maria questioned softly. 

            "Aye," Jack's tone was equally as soft. "Drake, Seth, Jaden and Boone. They hurt me. Or, rather, Seth did, but the other three helped." He paused. "They were, _are_, his minions. Drake's the one over there." Ana Maria broke her eyes away from the pirate captain and wordlessly rested them on the man that sat in a dimly-lit corner just a few feet away from her and Jacks' cells. She couldn't quite make out his features, but she could very easily make out the sword that was strapped to the man's side, along with the pistol that was clasped tightly in his hand. "Seth's the one that stole the Pearl." She looked back at Jack. His head was lowered now, but his eyes remained closed. "Jaden and Boone are the two that helped him. I don't know where the rest of that crew came from. Here maybe?" He sighed. "The Pearl used to belong to Seth before it belonged to William. They were… friends. It didn't last, and out of jealousy, Seth tried to kill me. Slashed me wrist and then broke it. No biggie." Jack lightly ran his fingers across the brown fabric once more. "William tied this around my wrist, saying it'd heal with time or what not. It never did." Another pause. His fingers stopped their wandering on his knuckles and Ana Maria watched silently as the pirate's hand balled into a fist.  

            "Jack?" Ana Maria called softly; frowning when the older man did not respond. "Jack, what's wrong?" 

            "It never healed." She narrowed her eyes in uncertainty. What was he talking about? His wrist? The slash? Jack was _not_ the type to repeat himself, and he had _just gotten done explaining to her that __neither of the two had healed. Ana Maria slowly shook her head at the man._

            "Jack-" Ana Maria's voice immediately ceased as the older man stood to his feet and slowly made his way towards the bars that were in the front of his cell. He wordlessly wrapped his hands around the cold metal as his eyes rested on the still figure that sat just a few feet away in the dimly-lit corner of whatever the hell kind of building it was that Seth had brought them to. It did not take abundant brilliance to know that the figure was, in return, staring callously at Jack as well. 

            "I will trust that you will refrain from speaking so harshly of Captain Graves, Jack Sparrow."  

            "_I _will trust that you will have sense enough to release me, Drake." Laughter filled the small room. Empty, merciless laughter. Rage surged through Jack's veins at the sound. 

            "And what will you do if I don't, Captain Sparrow?"

            "Release myself and then take _immense pleasure in personally driving that sword of yours through your body and out the other side." _

            "_Jack_!" Ana Maria's shrill tone echoed piercingly off of the walls of the grimy building that they were surrounded by. "You dim, rash, simple-headed _fool! What the __hell do you think you are doing? It's __suicide!" Empty, merciless laughter once again filled the room and Ana Maria's attention was instantly back on the stranger that Jack somehow knew from his past. Drake clasped his hands together behind his back as he casually strode over to Ana Maria and Jacks' cells. The smirk on his face widened almost as soon as he was standing face-to-face with Jack._

            "She's right, you know." Jack's expression was one of stone. Emotionless. Completely and utterly blank. Ana Maria frowned. "It _is suicide, Jack Sparrow. I have __ways of helping you refrain from speaking _so_ harshly of dear ole' Captain Graves, and I _won't _hesitate to use said ways if you do _not _keep your mouth shut and keep your _place_ in mind. Do you understand me?" A fresh wave of fury washed over Jack's emotionless figure. It surged through his veins as the ocean does onto the shore, causing his blood to boil and his chest to constrict in absolute detest. His eyes unconsciously narrowed at the man as his left hand grabbed for his shirt and held him in place as he rose his right in the air and forcefully back-handed the man across the face; ignoring the sting of metal as his shoulder slammed against one of the bars. He took advantage of the man's stumbling to push him roughly down onto the ground._

            "No," his voice was as sharp as ice, "I don't." Drake rose a hand to his lip to dab curiously at the wetness that was seeping out of the fresh gash. He lowered his fingers a few seconds later and slowly started to rub them together, marveling noiselessly at the redness that now covered them. He rose his eyes back to Jack and growled at the confident smile that covered the pirate captain's face. 

            "Very well, Mr. Sparrow." Drake smiled as he pushed himself up from the ground and back onto his feet. He lowered his gaze to his shirt and unconsciously started to brush away the dust and dirt that now covered it. "Very well indeed." He rose his eyes back up to the pirate captain and ignored the fresh trickle of blood that seeped out of the gash to his lip as he deliberately widened his grin. "Doctor?" Both Jack and Ana Maria rested their eyes on the shadows that lay behind Drake. Shuffling sounds broke the silence that had settled in around them and soon a tall figure emerged from the darkness and silently walked to stand beside Drake. The black suitcase that the Doctor held tightly by his side was stained with blood. 

Jack and Ana Maria froze.

            The doctor smiled. "Hola."

**_To Be Continued…_**

****

**Added ****1/24/04****: And four weeks later, Chapter Four is _finally _rewritten! Yey! This was a painful as hell chapter that gave me a _serious _case of writers block, but it's now over! Yey! I hope you all like the Doctor and the goriness and whatever else, and thank you _so much_ for having patience whilst I was rewriting 3 and 4. I will start the story back up with 7 ASAP!**

**Thanks to Ilya, Elf-Vulcan and jackfan2 for their help with the surgery!**

**See you all in Chapter Seven!  **

**Please review on your way out! **


	5. Lying Eyes

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**Chapter Five**

**AN:** _Please go back and re-read chapters 3 and 4, especially 4, before reading this chapter. Major changes took place in 3 and 4._

_"I wonder if you bleed the same as Wren." _

            As the sun idly made its debut and the moon wearily bid farewell, the slaughter from the previous night gradually became more and more evident, and soon the stench of rotting flesh and thick smoke was insignificant. Bodies lay with eerie serenity and with hollow eyes that would never again see anything other than the fires of hell or the golden clouds and gates of heaven. Their mouths lay ajar and hushed with the only reminder that they once had moved being the dried redness that was caked into the corners of their frowning lips. Parts of their limp forms lay submerged in the metallic redness that seemed to have swallowed the ground whole. 

_"I always **did** like to watch you struggle. It's so very entertaining. Reminds me of the look on Wren's face when I ran that sword through her heart."_

            The aroma and immobility of death held tightly to the wind as it washed over and through the blood-stricken port. The streets reeked of obliteration and stung from the wounds that death had caused. Blood lay in pools on the ground as if they were puddles of water caused by passing rain showers.

Destruction and death. Port Royale was crying and her tears were tears of blood.

_"I wonder if you bleed the same as Wren."_

Why could the past never stay true to its meaning?

            The wound to his arm stung callously, as did its creator's heart.

            "They took _everything_!" Will shouted from behind him and Elizabeth winced when the older man furiously kicked a chair against the wall. It hit just below the window that Bootstrap was gazing out of. "All of the swords, tools… -_Everything!" He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes as he sighed. "How the hell are we supposed to get our son back?" Will opened his eyes on Elizabeth. "How the hell are we supposed to save Jack Sparrow when we have _no_ clue of when or how to even _start_?!" Elizabeth slowly shook her head in response and Will sighed in irritation. He turned back around and continued his search of nothing._

            "You acting like _this_ is _not_ going to help the matter, Will," Elizabeth's voice was stern. "We all just need to settle down and _think, not tear apart the Smithy." Will nodded but made no effort to turn and face her. _

            "Who is Seth?" Elizabeth knew that the question wasn't meant for her voice. She uncrossed her arms and partly turned around so that she could see Bootstrap and fully hear his reply. A gleaming of some sort caught her attention and she rested her eyes on Bootstrap's arm. The fresh strips of cloth that they had bound around his arm after the first ones that they had applied had grown slick with redness were already nearly covered in blood. Elizabeth frowned.

Those three words. However was he to answer those three words?

_"Who is Seth?"_

Bootstrap did not know _how to answer those three words._

            Out of all of the questions that Will could have asked him… How do we find Jack? Why did you become a pirate? What is your biggest fear? How do we find my son?... he had to ask him the one that Bootstrap had no actual answer to. All that he could say were memories. All that he could supply were yesterdays. Memories and yesterdays are not in any way answers to any form of a question. All they are is outdated information about a person or an object that, over time, has changed, has grown different, has grown past that person or that object that he, she or it was in those memories and yesterdays. Bootstrap had not seen this man in over a decade, yet he was expected to know _who he was. He had no answer of __who he was, just who he __used to be. And that, no matter how much they would pretend that it would, wouldn't help them._

_"I had every right to betray you, I did."_

Pain. 

            If any part of him remained that had not been changed or altered by the hands of time, it had to have been pain. Pain is constant, pain does not change no matter how much the person or the object does. Pain is, and will always be, the same.

Seth was, if anything, pain.

            "What did you say?" Bootstrap's whispered words had been carried away by the wind that still held tightly to itself the strong aroma of death. 

            "He's pain, Will." Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in mystification as she turned her head to peer at Will. The blacksmith shrugged at her gaze before walking and covering the few feet that separated them. He stopped and stood beside her as both he and Elizabeth rested their eyes back on Bootstrap. The older man still had not turned around.

            "What do you mean?" A deep, throaty laugh engulfed the silence that lay mockingly around them. 

            "What do you mean what do _I mean?" More laughter. Will physically winced at the hollowness of it. "Seth is pain, William, Seth is ache, Seth is __hurt. That's the best that I can give ye. Can't put it any simpler than that, William." Will frowned. Puzzles and riddles would _not_ help them find Jack or Jack Sparrow! This was __not the time for Bootstrap to act like a simpleton! _

_"Who is Seth?"_

Will had asked the question twice now and the only answer he had been granted was not even palpable. 

_"Seth is… -We have to save Jack… -Both of them. Jack Sparrow and Jack Turner. Seth is… -We **have to save Jack Sparrow and Jack Turner."**_

_"Who is Seth?"_

_"He's pain, Will. Seth is pain, William, Seth is ache, Seth is **hurt**."_

            His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he irritably studied the wooden floor.

_"Who is Seth?"_

_"He's pain."_

_"Seth is… -We have to save Jack… -Both of them."_

Will blinked at the scrapes that covered the wooden floor and narrowed his eyes as he rose them back to Bootstrap's back. 

            "You know him." Elizabeth turned her head towards Will and peered at him with confusion apparent in her eyes. Will ignored her perplexity as he licked his lips and took a few steps closer to his father. "Somehow, you know Seth, don't you?" Silence was the only response. The older man said nothing. He could not say _anything_. Frustrated eyes slowly walked the length of a tranquil, small form that lay submerged in redness just a few feet away from the Smithy. Children are not meant to be calm, but this one, this little boy of about five or six, was. His darkened eyes bore into Bootstrap's and the former pirate captain quickly looked away. The image sat in his mind, joyfully introducing itself to the memories and yesterdays that had never ceased their torture, even three years after Barbossa had been killed. 

There was only one response that he could give. 

            "I don't know." It was the truth. Pounding erupted behind him and within seconds furious hands had grabbed hold of his shoulders and preceded to forcefully turn him around and away from the window. Angry eyes bore into his as the hands on his shoulders tightened and the words came out drenched with poison.

            "What do you mean you don't _know if you _know_ someone or _not_?!" _

            "Don't _dare_ impugn me of not knowing _whether_ I know someone or not, William, do not even _dare_." Bootstrap's eyes held a distance that frightened Will. "I don't _know if I __know Seth, Will, alright? Just as you accused Jack of not really, truly knowing me." Will said nothing as Bootstrap brushed his hands off of his shoulders and gave him one last cold stare before turning away and walking towards the door. "Come, you two, we have to save Jack and… Jack." Will watched his father until the man was out of sight. He sighed and shook his head as his eyes connected with Elizabeth's. The lass did nothing but frown and nod and lower her gaze as she turned to follow Bootstrap. Will made sure that she was out of sight before finally allowing himself to stumble jadedly back against one of the cold, dirty walls of the Smithy. His eyes shut tightly in an attempt to block out both reality and his father. The mocking laughter of the memories and the yesterdays rang loudly in his mind and he vaguely wondered if he was indeed alone. Will slowly opened his eyes to nothing. No one, not anything, only the dead bodies of a small girl and one of Seth's fallen men. His eyes scanned the room as if expecting someone, or something, to jump out, much like Jack had five years earlier. Ah yes, that duel with Captain Jack Sparrow. Will remembered it so vividly._

He leaned his head against the wall once more.

            "Damn."

**_To Be Continued…_**

****

**AN: I hope that everyone enjoys the deepness of this chapter, and the length. It's the second largest one. As I stated in the AN at the top of this page, please go back and at least skim chapter three, but read chapter four. Changes were made. I have two projects due next week and then the following week is Christmas, do I don't know when 6'll be up, but I'll try to get it up before Christmas. **

**I warn you guys now, though, so that you will be prepared, there is going to be at least 3 major character deaths. Fun, eh? :) **

**Expect flashbacks in upcoming chapters and have Kleenex handy.**

**Everyone liking the Pirate DVD, or VHS? We have both, and I have lost track of how many times I have watched them…**

**I'll update ASAP and I hope that everyone had a great Thanksgiving and will have a wonderful Christmas (or whatever holiday it is that everyone celebrates)! **

**Please review on your way out! **


	6. Funny Ol' World

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**Chapter Six**

_            No man has felt the true sorrow of heartache until he wears the blood of his best friend._

The hand that held the fountain pen immediately ceased.

Pained eyes slowly trailed over the lengths of each curve of each letter and the former pirate captain sighed.

What a funny ol' world.

            _I do not get these sayings, Wren. Sometimes I question the intelligence and accuracy behind them, if there is any at all, that is. You were my best friend, Wren, and to sit here and say that I felt no trace of remorse, not even the tiniest bit, would be a lie. True that I did not come to terms with reality for ten years, but when I got news of your death; my heart did indeed ache with something fierce. It did not last long, mostly due to the fact that I refused to believe that you were gone. I was not there when Barbossa ran that sword through your body without a care in the world or any guilt. I was not there to hold you as your life slowly crept out of your bleeding soul. I was not there. I did not wear your blood. My heart ached even still. It does to this day. Have I not experienced the true sorrow of heartache, Wren? As I said, I do not get these sayings, a good majority of them. _

            _Heartache is not just the outcome of blood. _

Indeed it was not. His rival reality, that damned uncouth mistress that he had come to loathe, had been sure to make him realize this.

             _Heartache is a sorrow that is triggered by emotion. Emotion is a pain, an ache, that is triggered by any number of things. Loneliness, defeat, rejection, abandonment, fatigue, betrayal, exile, death… _

Betrayal.

What a _hilarious ol' world._

            _All of these things can cause pain, and all of them do cause pain. A deep penetrating pain that, more often than not, shatters the soul and releases bittersweet tears that were not meant to be witnessed by any other man, woman, or beast.  You died, Wren, and I felt loneliness, and I felt defeat. I felt fatigue. I felt rejected and betrayed and abandoned by our almighty God for letting what happened to you happen. I felt shunned for ten years. It was pain, Wren, that brought on emotion, which brought on heartache, yet I did not wear your blood. No man has felt the true sorrow of heartache until he wears the blood of his best friend. I did not wear your blood, Wren, ergo; I did not feel the true sorrow of heartache. But what I felt, though, what I carried with me for ten years nearly was the death of me. If this was not true heartache, if this was not the full effect of how much pain God will allow us to undergo, then I do not want to know what is, Wren, nor should any other man. _

Nonsense. It was all just nonsense. 

Who would continue adding to a letter that was not meant to be but a page long?

            Him, that's who. Bootstrap. Bootstrap Bill. Bootstrap Bill Turner. William Turner. Whatever the bloody hell it was that he was known by these days. Bootstrap slammed the fountain pen down onto the table and allowed his head to fall into his hands. Him. _He was simple enough to continue a letter for a year with no signs of an ending anywhere in sight. It was hell all over again._

He silently cursed at Elizabeth and at his son.

Honestly, how bloody _long did it take to retrieve someone and then come back?_

            The harsh words that he and Will had exchanged earlier in the Smithy rang loudly in his ears and Bootstrap sighed at their continuous echo. The lad probably did not _want_ to _come_ _back, and who was he to blame him? His child was taken away by some pirate captain and was being held hostage on a ship that Seth had stolen from his best friend. Will was angry and worried and hurt and God only knew what else. Bootstrap, saying that he did not know who Seth was, besides an emotion, did not help matters, and did not help to make his son less angry or less worried or less hurt. The former pirate captain sighed as his eyes rested on one of the many pages that, over the course of a year, had become both his hell and his heaven. Both his sanity and his insanity. _

Dear God help him, he was dependent on a letter to keep him sane.

Perhaps that was why he saw no signs of an ending anywhere in sight.

Or it could just be his punishment for doing what he had done to his wife, his child and his best friend.

Bootstrap did nothing nor said anything as the front door softly clicked open and Elizabeth finally returned with Will.

            "William?" He briefly allowed his eyes to skim over the familiar rambling before rolling them in aggravation and shoving the letter into an opened drawer below. Pained eyes roamed over the chaotic, unorganized heap of nonsense and he frowned in displeasure as he slammed the drawer shut, causing the desk to shake in response to the blow. "Where are you?" Bootstrap quickly rose to his feet and started to make his way towards Elizabeth and Will. He refused to be dependent on paper and ink. This was the right thing to do, right? Discontinue the letter. There was no need to finish the letter. It could just sit in that drawer for all eternity and rot for all he cared. It was a goodbye letter to his wife, and if he did not finish the letter, maybe she would come back. No one is truly dead until you make them dead. No one is truly gone until you say goodbye.

He had to keep himself from laughing.

How foolish of him. 

            "Ah, there you are." Bootstrap convincingly smiled at the younger lass and nodded his head in response.

            "Sorry," he said quietly, "I was distracted."

            "Nothing out of the usual." Will's muttered words hit Bootstrap harder than he had expected and the older man had to shut his eyes to keep himself from screaming something futile in response. Elizabeth just sighed and hit Will's wrist as a sign that she would not stand for any bickering amongst the two men right now and Will merely nodded irritably at her and pulled his wrist free.  He crossed his arms and rested his eyes on his father. "What's the plan?" Bootstrap said nothing and Will rolled his eyes at the man's behavior. Elizabeth glared at her husband before gently resting her hand on Bootstrap's shoulder and shaking the man to break him out of his trance. Bootstrap came to with a start and eyes full of… -Elizabeth didn't even know.

_"All of the above. His eyes, **your eyes, held all of the above."**_

She frowned.

            "You're not-"

            "I'm alright."

            "-Alright." Elizabeth finished and Bootstrap shook his head and flashed the lass a small smile. Elizabeth said nothing.

            "Father," Bootstrap shifted his eyes back to his son. His eyes still held a distance that frightened Will to no end. Much like Jack Sparrow, Bootstrap appeared to be dangling from a line somewhere between sanity and insanity. Losing his grandson, the possibility that his best friend could very well be dead, and having his son mad at him probably were not helping. Will sighed but did not press the matter. There'd be time for that later. The opportune moment. "What is the plan?" He asked again, and Bootstrap grinned in response. Both Elizabeth and Will raised an eyebrow at the man and the unusual action.

            "Simple. We commandeer a ship and go from there," the older man shrugged. "Nothin' to it."

            "William, we don't know where Seth is headed, though."

            "I said 'and go from there', Elizabeth." His tone was unusually low and harsh. "We'll figure it out sooner or later. We're not getting anything accomplished just by sitting here, though. Least we can do is have a ship and be sailin', that's at least a start." Elizabeth briefly looked over at Will before she sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

            "I suppose you're right," she hesitantly agreed.

            "What ship?"

            "Preferably the H.M.S Dauntless," Bootstrap answered and grinned at Elizabeth's frown. "That is, if it's alright with the governors daughter." Elizabeth simply shrugged in response as she turned back to the door and pulled it open. She looked back at Will and Bootstrap with an impatient expression and the two men hurriedly followed her out. Bootstrap granted himself one last look at the desk that he had spent more time at than any other place in the last year and frowned at it as he wordlessly turned away. The door shut behind him with a soft thud and the house was soon as quiet and as calm as the grief-stricken Port. 

*** * ***

            His two-year-old mind could not comprehend why the man acted as he did, he just knew that his actions were daunting and foreign, and that his mother and father were not around to protect him and keep this man away. The man had not said or done much of anything  to make his two-year-old mind fear him, he just knew that this man, whatever his name, was not nice, and would more than likely do him some kind of harm if the need ever arose. He frightened him, that's all that Jack could understand, that when he was around him, he did not feel secure. Whoever the man was, he was _not_ friends with his father nor his mother, and had, for some reason or another, taken him away from them. Jack hugged his knees closer to his chest and wondered hazily where he was. He was on a ship, but what ship? Going where? Back home? The overwhelming confusion was enough to bring tears to the two-year-old's eyes and he quickly buried his face in his small arms. 

He rose his tear-scarred face when light suddenly consumed the darkness that he had been hiding out in ever since discovering that the man frightened him.

            "I thought you could use some company," the man smiled at the child. Jack immediately shook his head and tried to lean back further into the wall and let out a small cry of fear when he discovered that he could not. Seth chuckled softly as he shut the cabin door and turned back around to peer at Jack. "You seem afraid." 

            "You're scary."

            "I am?" He watched as the child's head slowly bobbed up and down in response. He grinned. "How am I scary, Jack?" 

            "You took me away from home." 

            Seth gradually started to make his way towards the frightened child. "You don't think I'm a very nice guy, do you, Jack?" The child slowly shook his head. "I'm not so different from your grandfather, you know." He paused and cocked his head to the side as his eyes curiously roamed over the smaller figure. His eyes narrowed slightly as a grin slowly spread across his face. "You love your grandfather, don't you, Jack?" 

            "Yes." His voice was timid and small. 

            "O'course you do. And he does not frighten you; you do not think that he's scary?" Jack shook his head. "Why am I, then? William and I… we are not so different, Jack, we have a lot more in common than you could ever believe."

            "He's nice! You're mean!" Seth smiled at the angry shouts and kneeled down in front of the child. 

            "William is _nice_? By what definition, young Turner? Your grandfather abandoned your father when he was naught but a child, Jack, younger than you even. Do you know what 'abandoned' means, Jack?" The child shook his head and Seth grinned once more. "Left him, Jack, left him behind and left home. He lied to your father as well, saying that he was a merchant sailor, when, in actuality, he was a pirate, a member of my crew. The Pearl was mine, Jack, and then he took her from me. I welcomed him aboard when he had no where else to go when your father was born and he repaid me by taking away my life, Jack, and yet you dare to call him _nice?" Seth's eyes roamed over the child's terrified state and he lowered them with a small sigh as he silently rose to his feet. "William and I… we are not so different, Jack." His tone was lower now, seemingly holding an emotion that Seth did not want to show. "He betrayed me, he did. Stole the Pearl and my crew and my life away from me." His eyes rested on the sea. "Betrayed him, I did. Tried to murder Jack, that bloody Jack Sparrow. William stopped me, though, stopped me and marooned me." He looked back at Jack. "Do you know what 'marooned' means, Jack?"_

            "No," the child answered softly.

            "He left me on an island to die, Jack, and I stood there watching as my best friend sailed away with my ship and everything that was ever important to me." Seth shifted his eyes back to the sea. "Including him. Betrayal, Jack, it's a knife whose blade cuts so deeply that the wound never stops bleeding." The child remained silent. "William and I… we are not so different, Jack, not different at _all." Jack looked up in alarm when he heard shattering glass. Seth held his hand still outside of the window and watched in morbid fascination as his blood slowly trickled out of the fresh wounds and fell down towards the sea. Memories was all the blood was. Memories seeping from his veins. _

Either Seth nor Jack heard the cabin door softly clicking open.

            "Captain?" Seth did not turn to meet Jaden's eyes.

            "Go back to the deck."

            "Sir, I heard glass shattering, are you alr-"

            "The deck. Now." Jaden narrowed his eyes in uncertainty but said nothing as he gradually closed his mouth and nodded his head. The door shut with a soft click and Seth shook his head as he brought his hand back inside and allowed it to limply fall at his side. He turned away from the shattered window and rested his eyes on the terrified two-year-old that still sat crouched in the corner. "Now who's the mean one and the nice one, Jack?" Jack said nothing and Seth gave him one last cold frown before turning on his heel and walking out of the cabin and back up to the deck.   

**_To Be Continued…_**

****

**AN: Whee! This chapter is finally done! Took long enough. Anyway, major thanks to Ilya and Elf-Vulcan for helping me many, many times throughout this chapter, especially Ilya with the last part. Hope you all enjoy it.**

**I have four projects due this week and will not be able to update this nor my parody until sometime next weekend. But, have no fear, Christmas break starts next week and I will have two weeks to make up for lost time. Bear with me, people. **

**I hope everyone is getting to know Seth a little bit better by the hints that I've been dropping, and especially by this last part of six.**

**I will update sometime next weekend!**

**Please r/r on your way out!  **


	7. Psychological

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**Chapter Seven**

**_Please re-read chapters three and four before reading this chapter! Both were rewritten!_**

She could _not_ understand it. 

            Twenty-three years, over two decades of his thirty-seven year old life, had been spent engaged in piracy. Ana Maria had met the man some years back and had since tended to countless wounds that he had earned himself during duels, raids, or whatever else he had happened to be doing at the time that had caused him hardship. Skids, slashes, stab wounds, bullet wounds, and even swords that had had their tilts drenched in various poisons before penetrating his skin had all caused him little, if any, alarm. Hell, the man had even nearly _died_ on more occasions than she cared to remember and had been up and about, shouting orders to his crew whilst taking swigs from a rum bottle the next day. 

A single slash to the wrist had sent him crumbling to the floor and into a corner of his small, soiled cell.

A single slash to the wrist had effortlessly broken down a barrier that no bullet wound, stab wound, or concoction had never even been able to scratch.

She did _not_ understand it. Or maybe she did not _want _to understand it. Perhaps she was even going so far as to be _keeping _herself from understanding it?

Ana Maria wordlessly allowed her head to fall into her hands. Why must it _always _be the latter of the choices?

            If she suddenly were to make up her mind to stop acting as a simpleton would in her current situation and finally _accept_ the fact that she _did _very _well_ understand _why_ the slash had affected the pirate captain the way it had, she'd have nothing else to think about, nothing else to distract her from the fact that the Doctor and Jack had been gone for practically the entire day and that he had managed to do God knows what to him in that period of time. Perhaps the Doctor had not hurt Jack at all? And even if he had, she knew Jack; she knew that Jack would _not_ crumble and that he would _not_ break. He was a pirate… their foundation was one of stone. 

She regretted the thought almost instantly.

Stone _can_ crumble. Stone _is_ breakable. And then what? 

Ana Maria shook her head as she pressed her fingertips firmly against her skull.

If the Doctor had done so much as laid a _single_ finger on him, so help her _God_…

            Her eyes were immediately resting on the door that Jack had been dragged inside of all those hours earlier when she heard it swing open with a low moan. The already all-too-familiar tall figure of the Doctor slowly emerged from the shadows and forcefully pushed a smaller, shorter figure forward towards the ground. It fell to a heap not even five seconds later. Ana Maria's eyes gradually walked the length of the frozen mass. 

There was no blood. 

None.

 Not even a _trace_. He was _not_ hurt. Jack was _fine_. 

            _Why_ wasn't he fighting back? _Why_ wasn't he trying to escape? The Doctor _hadn't_ hurt him…

He had done something much worse.

            "I trust that you followed orders, Miguel?" The figure's head slowly bobbed up and down in silent response to Drake's question. "Very good," Drake smiled with approval as he, too, nodded his head. Miguel dropped his eyes from Drake's in order to briefly steal a glimpse of first Jack and then Ana Maria before hurriedly turning on his heel and leaving out of the same door that he had just come out of seconds earlier. The door shut with a soft clicking sound and soon the room was once again engulfed with silence.

            "Orders?" Ana Maria's tone was soft and hesitant, perhaps, Drake wordlessly thought to himself, even border-lining fearful, or maybe even horrified. He couldn't help the smile that had spread across his lips as he turned away from the door to be able to meet the female pirate's eyes.

            "Yes," he answered, noting with satisfaction that Jack had not moved, nor had Ana Maria's eyes from off of his unmoving body. "The Doctor, or Miguel, as I like to call him, was given strict orders."

            "Such as?"

            "He was not allowed to make Jack physically bleed." 

            Her eyes were off of the pirate captain's body and on his tormentor's within seconds. "_Physically_ bleed?" Her voice tentatively echoed. Drake nodded his head in response to her question and Ana Maria could almost literally _feel_ the many thoughts of _what_ that were filling her mind and causing tears to sting at her eyes with the threat of falling over and journeying down her cheeks. "What did he do…?" She was not even entirely sure that she wanted to hear what Miguel had done. Jack Sparrow had always been dangling from a line somewhere between sanity and insanity, and from what she had seen, the fact that he had _not_ fought back, the fact that he was _lying_ on the ground not even _trying_ to _escape_, were more than enough signs that Miguel, whatever the hell it was that he had made Jack undergo, had finally snipped that line and Jack, her captain, her _friend_, had finally, after thirty-seven years, been pushed over the edge. 

Ana Maria did not even notice that Drake had not answered her question.

She watched through blurred vision as the older man kicked the door to Jack's cell back open before dragging him in and then walking back out. 

Jack did not once protest.

His eyes were open now, but he was not looking at Drake, he was not looking at Ana Maria. He seemed to be looking through them and at something that neither of the two could see.

God help them. Miguel had psychologically tortured a man that had not the strength, nor the sanity, to live through it and come out unscathed.

*** * ***

            It wasn't that he thought the H.M.S Dauntless to be nothing more than rubbish. He knew that she was a good, reliable ship. She had proven this herself five years earlier during the stand-off with Barbossa when his cursed crew had launched that surprise attack against Norrington's men. She was more than capable of aiding them in finding Jack Sparrow and Jack Turner and then returning all five of them safely back to Port Royale. 

Bootstrap trusted the Dauntless; he just did not trust himself. 

He had not sailed in a year. He _missed_ piracy. He would be lying if he said that he did not.

            "William?" The older man turned his eyes away from the horizon in order to be able to meet Elizabeth's. "Will's back. He said that he grabbed a couple of maps and a few extra swords that he had hidden at our home. We're ready to set sail, William." He momentarily allowed his eyes to wordlessly roam hers before nodding his head in response to her words. Elizabeth frowned as the former pirate's eyes slowly traveled back to the horizon. It was calling to him. It was beckoning him; _begging_ him to sail the Caribbean once more. 

She would be incorrect if she even dared to think that the former pirate had every intention of ignoring its pleas. 

            She knew him better than that, and she knew that _he_ knew himself better than that. Once he set foot on the Dauntless, there would be no turning back, there would be no return to Port Royale, or to even land. It did not take a genius to know this. 

Piracy was in his blood. There was no escaping that, no matter how much he tried to run and hide.

            "Right," the older man finally spoke a few minutes later. "I guess our best bet would be to establish their most likely course… -No idea what _that_ would be, though." Elizabeth watched as the older man scratched thoughtfully at the stubble that enveloped his chin.  "Isle de Muerta, perhaps? Though I doubt it. Why would Jack have gone _there_? Guess we can scratch that." Bootstrap unconsciously narrowed his eyes at the horizon as his mind silently read down the list of possible courses and locations. Elizabeth blinked as she followed Bootstrap's gaze and rested her eyes on the horizon as well. It truly was breathtaking. The sky met the sea and the sea met the sky in a way that left you unsure as to where one began and where the other end. 

It was no wonder that pirates dedicated their existence to following and chasing it. It was no wonder that both Bootstrap and Jack craved it.

 In all honesty, who would not?

            "Tortuga?" She suggested, blinking and removing her eyes from off of the horizon and resting them back on Bootstrap. "Could Jack have been there?" 

            "That's more likely of a place than Isle de Muerta is," the older man smiled softly, "that's for sure. And it's ole' Cap'n Jack. He's in Tortuga every chance that he gets." 

            "He wouldn't give the Pearl up without a fight, though."

            "Aye, he wouldn't. The Pearl's his life; his sole reason for existing. He'd sooner die than allow her to be mistreated."

            "Something had to have happened, then," her tone was wavering, and Bootstrap simply nodded his head in agreement with the younger lass, hoping that she had not seen the flash of terror that had momentarily lit up his features. The fact that Seth _had_ managed to _effectively_ commandeer the Pearl frightened him to no end. He _knew_ the lengths that one would have to go to to be able to do so much as to even _look_ at the Pearl. Seth had _stolen_ her. He had _taken _her. Bootstrap did not even want to _know what_ Seth had had to do to Jack in order to be able to seize his ship and make it out alive and in one piece. 

He could tell by Elizabeth's stillness and uncertainty that she did not want to know either.

            "Father." 

            Unlike Elizabeth, Bootstrap did not turn his eyes away from the horizon. "William."

            "We should get going," Will answered. "God only knows how long it will take us since we don't _know_ where Seth is headed."

            "We do. Tortuga." 

            "Are you certain, William?" Elizabeth frowned at the older man. "I mean, I was just making a suggestion… -Tortuga is a day's journey _at least_; we can't afford to be incorrect." Bootstrap turned away from the horizon and nodded towards the younger woman; a small, confident smile lying lazily on his lips. 

            "I've known Jack Sparrow for twenty three years, Elizabeth, and I _know_ Jack Sparrow far better than the two of you combined. He was _at_ Tortuga, whether he was just stopping by or coming to visit us, I'm not sure, but he _was_ there. Somehow, Seth was there, and one thing led to another and Seth commandeered the Pearl. I don't know _why_ he did, but he _did_, and so there is no _need_ to drive ourselves crazy with _why_. Seth's headin' back to Tortuga with your son. We've got to beat him back there before he kills him _and _Jack Sparrow." 

            "How do you know? How can you be _so _sure? For all we know, he could have _already_ _killed_ Jack!" Will demanded of his father; a minor hint of irritation lacing the words and enveloping his tone. This was _not _the time to be guessing; to be _hoping_ and _praying _that what they were doing and that what they were thinking _was_ correct! Now was the time for accuracy. "I'm not saying it's a happy scenario, but from what you have told us about Seth, dad, _how can _we be so sure that he _hasn't_ killed Jack?" Bootstrap narrowed his eyes at his son, and Will instinctively found himself reaching for his sword; remembering that his father had once been a pirate and was _still_ capable of hurting him. The older man took the few steps forward that separated them and slowly placed his hands on his son's shoulders. 

            "I've known Jack Sparrow for twenty three years," he repeated, and Will frowned, eyes roaming over his father's; noting that they held fear. His words _had_ touched _something_, but his father was _not_ willing to admit that they had, was _not_ willing to admit that his best friend _could_ very well be _dead_. "And I _know_ Jack Sparrow far better than you two _ever _will. Trust me when I say that Jack Sparrow is _not _dead and that Seth _is _going back to Tortuga with _your _son." The older man released Will from his grasp a few seconds later and turned his attention to the Dauntless. Both Elizabeth and Will looked on with hesitant eyes. "Well then," Bootstrap smiled as he turned back around to face them. The fury and the fear that had shone in his eyes only seconds earlier was no more. "Let us set sail to Tortuga, savvy?" 

Neither of the two responded to him as they slowly walked to board the Dauntless. 

Will was last onboard and he, like his wife and like his father, did not hear the footsteps coming from somewhere behind them. 

**_To Be Continued…_**

****

**AN: I am _so_ sorry for making you guys wait _so_ long for this chapter while I was rewriting three and four. I can not even _begin _to tell you all how much I appreciate the patience that you have given me since January. It has paid off, though, because now we are _finally_ moving forward in the story. **

**Oh, and guess what? There will more than likely be a sequel to this story and the might-be title for the time being is _Lay Me Down_. I'll let you guys know more details as we get closer to the ending of _Do I Have To Cry For You?_, which we are very far from. **

**I have a three day weekend coming up and then Spring Break week after next, plus a _whole_ notebook full of scenes and ideas for this story and its upcoming chapters. I will _definitely_ be updating as much as I possibly can to make up for having you guys wait since January.**

**Eight will be up _ASAP_!**

**Please review on your way out! ****J******


	8. Assumptions

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**Chapter Eight**

            The indolent, crystal-blue waves of the tranquil sea soothingly continued to pull the Black Pearl along with her. Overhead, dusk had slowly begun to set in; casting golden, shimmering shadows across the sea for as far as the eye could witness. Golds and oranges, reds and yellows… the colors had joined as one, creating that line that every pirate craved, that every pirate chased. It was a beautiful sight… a _breathtaking_ sight… enough to make any pirate feel as if he were on top of the world.

_"Betrayal, Jack, it's a knife whose blade cuts so deeply that the wound never stops bleeding."_

            The Black Pearl… the last _real_ pirate threat in the Caribbean; the _fastest_ ship in the Spanish Main… she was his. He had his ship back. The horizon lay shimmering in the distance with both adventure and opportunity lying just out of reach beyond it; beckoning him and whispering to him to come chase them. And he could. And he _would_. He _should_.

Who was he trying to fool?

_"William and I… we are not so different, Jack, we have a lot more in common than you could ever believe."_

Certainly not himself. Not this time. Not anymore.

            It hurt. He did not know _how _to make it _not _hurt. Was that even _possible_? It would not surprise him in the least bit if it weren't. He missed William, he missed their friendship, the incredible bond that they had once shared; the bond that had lasted for so many years, that had grown stronger and stronger, withstanding time, withstanding life, but not withstanding him, not withstanding Jack Sparrow. Everything that they had been through together had not been enough. Their incredible bond had been effortlessly mangled beyond recognition, torn to shreds, and then brutally murdered; all by betrayal's blade, all because of Jack Sparrow. That _God damned_ Jack Sparrow…

He had tried to kill Jack; had tried to hurt him as badly as he had hurt him. A severely broken wrist was all that he had been granted.

            It was _not_ enough. It would _not _be enough until Jack Sparrow was dead; until he was lying six feet underneath of him with worms consuming what would be left of his body whilst his soul rotted and burned in the depths of Hell. It would _not _be enough until William Turner had paid; had paid in blood, had paid with his life, had _finally _realized just how _badly_ he had hurt him that day that he had marooned him. They would _both _pay, and they would pay with their blood and their lives, just like he had the day that his best friend had left him to death.

He would nolonger allow betrayal's blade to hurt him; to keep the wound that was his past open. They would sail back to Port Royale.

William Turner.

Jack Sparrow.

            Both of them would be dead within days. Seth was sure of this.

*** * ***

            Bootstrap slid two fingers along the Dauntless' railing as he made his way to the helm. 

He had forgotten to forget this feeling. 

            Had he remembered, like he had promised himself that he would, he would _not_ feel the way that he was; he would _not_ feel content, he would not feel… _this way_. The jagged wood beneath his fingertips was sparking a flame that he was supposed to have put out three years ago. 

He had forgotten to forget this feeling, and he was not strong enough to pretend that it was not there.

            "If everything goes alright, we should be arriving at Tortuga about this time tomorrow." Guilt and shame swallowed Bootstrap's mind and being as his hand touched the wooden wheel and his son's optimistic words filled his ears. "We need a plan of sorts, though." Will continued. "A plan would be safer than an ambush." 

            Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, I agree." 

            "Just get your son and Jack." Bootstrap's tone was unusually hushed. "I'll take care of Seth."

            "Are you sure that that's wise?" He winced at Will's concern. "I mean… -Seth managed to get you unconscious, father, if you were to get hurt, and we weren't around-" 

            Bootstrap cut him off. "Stick to the code. I don't _care_ what happens, you just get your son and our friend and you get the hell away from there." Silence. "Besides," he slowly began to add, "I'll be fine." Will really did _not_ know exactly what it was that had kept him from walking to his father and smacking him in the face. He was not a simpleton. His father's words could not be trusted. His tone had deceived them.

            "Right," Elizabeth sighed a few seconds later. "We'll abide by the code, then, William. Any man that falls behind," she shot a look at Will; noiselessly warning him to drop the anger that he currently held against his father, "is left behind." The blacksmith dropped his eyes from off of his father's back, cursing the older man as he did. Even in a time of crisis, his words remained letters and sounds that could not be trusted. After twenty three years he was _still _lying to his son. 

Will said nothing as he turned away from both Elizabeth and Bootstrap.

            Elizabeth cursed Will for his juvenile measures whilst the hand that Bootstrap had lying on the Dauntless' wheel tightened into a fist as another wave of guilt and shame literally ripped the air from out of his lungs. 

            "I'll get us ready to cast off," the younger man murmured. "Elizabeth, help me, please?" The woman said nothing as she turned on her heel to aid her husband. 

            "May I ask why you are stealing the Dauntless?" A memorable voice questioned. Elizabeth and Will both froze whilst Bootstrap shut his eyes in exasperation and shook his head from side to side. _This _would prove to be interesting, that was for sure. Of _all_ people… -He could not help the smirk that slowly spread across his lips. "According to British Navy law, I have the right to arrest each of you, _Elizabeth_." Elizabeth unconsciously grimaced at the tone. "So," he continued as he climbed aboard the Dauntless, "one of you better start explaining your sudden show of piracy." Commodore Norrington crossed his arms as he leaned back against the ship's railing; patiently awaiting for one of the three to start. No one spoke. "No one brave enough?" Norrington's attention turned to William almost as soon as he heard the man chuckling softly to himself. "I take it you find this amusing, Mr. Turner?"

            Bootstrap shook his head as he slid his finger along the edges of the wheel. "What exactly do you want me to say, Commodore?"

            Norrington frowned in annoyance. "Why you are stealing a ship of the Royal Fleet."

            "I am not stealing, I am _commandeering_." Will mentally slapped a hand to his face at his father's choice of words. "And I am _commandeering_ a ship of the Royal Fleet because I am, or will be, on a rescue mission. With all due respect, Commodore, Jack Turner is a subject of the British crown and is therefore under _your _protection, not to mention that he is the Governor's grandson. Do you _really_ want us to _not _commandeer this ship to go rescue him and safely bring him back home? Funny. I thought that you were fond of your position… I guess _not_…-"

            Norrington interrupted the former pirate captain. "Jack Turner was kidnapped?" Bootstrap nodded his head. "By whom?"

            "A pirate by the name of Seth, Commodore," he answered, faintly turning the wheel to the right and then back to the left. "Cap'n Seth commandeered the Black Pearl and-"

            "The Black Pearl?" Norrington repeated as he pushed himself up from the railing. "So it _was_ the Black Pearl that raided Port Royale..."

            "Yes, but-"

            "I _knew _Jack Sparrow was behind all of this! I will organize a crew and send for him at once. Dead or alive-" 

            Bootstrap hurriedly spun around. "I'm sorry, did I say, 'A pirate by the name of _Jack_'? _No_. Jack Sparrow was _not _involved in last night's raid, Commodore; Jack Sparrow was not even _aboard_ the Pearl."

            Norrington narrowed his eyes at Bootstrap. "Where is Mr. Sparrow then, William? And how did his ship get here without him?"

            "I don't know _exactly_ where Jack is, but I have an idea," Bootstrap sighed at the realization of his words. "And as for how his ship got here… Seth, a man that he and I know from way back when, somehow managed to steal it from him." 

            "You know as well as I do that Jack Sparrow would _never _allow _anyone_ near that ship of his, Mr. Turner. Therefore, he planned that raid, but did not allow himself to take part in it." 

            "You _dare_ to even _think _that you know Jack Sparrow better than _me_?" The former pirate captain spat incredulously. His eyes narrowed at the Commodore's certain expression. "You know not a _thing_, Commodore. Jack Sparrow was _not_ involved with the slaughter that was last night; Jack Sparrow doesn't kill just for the sake of having blood on his sword. Something happened to him, _Norrington_, something horrific enough to have prevented him from protecting that ship, from protecting his bloody _life_. And I _will _find out what that something is and I _will _see to it that Jack is given justice, whether you see him fit enough to be or not." Norrington's eyes wordlessly roamed Bootstrap's. His love for the pirate captain was equivalent to that of a parent's unconditional love for their child. 

Jack Sparrow was a son to William in his eyes.

But in Norrington's eyes, he was a merciless pirate, a bloody scoundrel; just the same as all the rest.

            "I will accompany you and aid you in the rescuing of Jack Turner, William, but under no circumstances will I once again save the pirate. I did that five years ago." Bootstrap said nothing to the man as he motioned at Will and Elizabeth with his right hand to go and prepare them to cast off. They nodded and walked away; leaving Bootstrap and Norrington and the suffocating tension that had settled in around them in silence.

**_To Be Continued…_**

****

**AN: Once again, thank you everyone for your patience! This story has caused quite a bit of writer's block, but I think that I'm _finally_ regaining control of the wheel. Heh. Let us hope. :) **

**I'm guessing that this story will be about nineteen chapters. Hmm. We shall see.**

**I'll get chapter nine up ASAP!!!**

**Please read and review!!**


	9. Of Companions and Broken Promises

**Do I Have To Cry For You?**

**Chapter Nine**

            Morning. Night had already come and gone. Heavy fog that enveloped the Dauntless and dense, gray clouds that had been dripping for hours had replaced the moon and the stars. The sea was strangely hushed and ominous, and the wind, usually alive and dancing with the sounds of piracy and of the sea, held a ghostly stillness to it as it swept over him and through the sails of the Dauntless.

The saturated fabric hit the deck. What was once white was now a deep shade of red.

            "That's a lot of blood, Mr. Turner." Bootstrap slowly rubbed his discolored fingers together before wiping the crimson off on his shirt.

            He sighed. "Tell me something that I don't know, Commodore." Norrington walked to stand beside the former pirate captain and stole a glance at the gash that ran the length of his arm. Dry blood literally surrounded the wound on all sides whilst fresh blood was bubbling up from the surface and slowly streaming downwards.

            "That's a nasty wound you have there, Mr. Turner."

            "I said tell me something that I _don't _know, Commodore."

            "You're liable to get an infection if you don't sterilize that better than you have."

            "Yes, thank you for that, and why do you even care, anyway? I'm going to save a pirate, and pirates are evil, evil things that deserve to die, remember?" Bootstrap could not help his tone. All that Norrington had said and done yesterday… blaming Jack for the raid on Port Royale… it had hit a nerve, and he was still fairly livid with the Commodore for even _daring_ to blame Jack for such a slaughter; for ever _thinking_ that Jack could commit such a massacre!

            Commodore Norrington reached into his pocket and revealed a clean handkerchief. He took hold of Bootstrap's injured arm and gently started to bandage the wound as best he could with his handkerchief.

Bootstrap watched him in astonishment.

            "Your devotion to that man will be your death, Mr. Turner," he told him softly, his eyes holding a seriousness to them, an emotion that he hadn't shown, Bootstrap assumed, since Gillette was brutally murdered by pirates at sea four years earlier. Norrington tied a small knot with two ends of the handkerchief to assure that it would not come loose. "Your life is not worth the life of a pirate."

            Bootstrap said nothing as he lowered his eyes to rest on the Commodore's handkerchief. "No," the former pirate captain agreed as he dabbed at the knot curiously, "but it is worth the life of a friend, James." Norrington nodded his head as he turned away from him. He leaned against the ship's railing and lowered his eyes down to the sea. Rain droplets soundlessly continued to pierce every inch of her.

            "A friend, eh?"

            A small smile stretched across his lips. "Yes," Bootstrap answered softly, "Jack is my Gillette, I guess. He's my best friend, and, I guess, sort of a son to me. I mean, I've known him for twenty three years. That's over two decades. He… -He means a lot to me."

             "Gillette… he, um… -He did, too." Bootstrap leaned against the railing as he allowed his eyes to wander off into the distance. The horizon that he loved to chase was not there, though, as it was hidden somewhere in the blanket of fog that had enveloped them.

            "I know, Commodore." The drops of rain that had been falling all morning unexpectedly and rapidly quickened their pace and soon began to hammer both the deck of the Dauntless and the two men that were leaning against her railing. The sea grew more and more agitated with each rain droplet that hit her and was immediately showing her irritation by trying to escape the droplets; creating waves that were enough to dangerously rock the Dauntless and put the ship at her mercy.

            Commodore Norrington held tight to the railing as another wave rammed into the ship. "William, we _have_ to get off of the deck!" Bootstrap said nothing. Norrington narrowed his eyes in both worry and exasperation. Now was _not _the time for the man to not pay him any mind! "William, are you even listening to me?! We have to ge-" Another wave crashed into the side of the Dauntless, successfully cutting the Commodore off. He shook his head and tightened the grip that he had around the railing. "We have got to get off of this deck!" Nothing. "_William_!"

            "James." His tone was not normal. The younger man anxiously searched the distance; desperately trying to find, or to see, what it was that had caused Bootstrap to freeze.

Commodore Norrington froze as well.

The Black Pearl was heading right for them with loaded cannons that were more than ready to fight to the death.

            It was dark; midnight dark, so dark that the blackest coal in the world shone as intensely as the sea whilst dancing with the sun. It hadn't been this dark in so long… this uncanny, empty blackness… twenty three years… it had not been this dark in twenty three years. Through treachery, mutiny and death there had always been some form of brightness to the darkness, some fiber of optimism, miniature in size, but it had still _always_ been there.

It was dark; midnight dark, so dark that he could see nothing; nothing but the uncanny, empty blackness.

And it had only been _one day_.

            "I don't understand. This… _feeling_… -You promised that it wouldn't ever come back! That I was safe with you! You're not… -You're not even _here_. You _left_ me, William! _Abandoned_ me…" The female pirate narrowed her eyes at her captain's words. "Bloody ole' Cap'n Jack… -He deserved this, didn't he? Had it coming… had it _coming_." She watched as Jack fiercely shook his head from side to side, as if trying to convince himself, or whoever it was that he believed to be speaking with, that his words were not words of truth. "No… -_No_. Didn't abandon me, did ye, William? No. You'll… you'll be back for me, for Ana Maria, for _us_… -You'll be here won't ye, William?"

His tone. Ana Maria frowned at that tone.

Miguel had _broken_ what _thirty_ _seven_ _years_ could never even do as much as _touch_ in just _one day_. One _fucking _day!

            The icy metal bars that separated her from her captain suddenly felt even colder against the dingy thin white shirt that covered her bare back. "Aye, I'll be back for you and your crew, Jack. I have not abandoned any of you."

            "Why aren't you here, William? You told me that you would always be here, and you aren't. You're not."

_            Damn you, Miguel. _"I don't know why I'm not with you right now, Jack, _but_," Ana Maria continued, "I _will _be there soon." _I hate you. _"You'll see, Jack. I'll come and I'll rescue you, Ana Maria and Gibbs, Cotton and the rest of the Pearl's crew and it'll be just like old times. Rum and women! You'll see." _I hate you. You had no right, no **right**! _"You'll see, Jack, just wait," she repeated, wordlessly cursing Miguel, wanting nothing more than to tear the man from limb to limb, leaving him alive only to be able to watch him slowly die.

            Jack sighed. "Do you promise?"

            "Do I promise what, Jack?"

            "That… -That you'll be here with me soon." Ana Maria gradually felt the fury draining from her face as something inside of her snapped in two and the tears that she had been willing away for days finally spilled from her eyes. "Promise?"  She dragged two fingertips across both of her cheeks as she forcefully closed her eyes and lowered them to the ground; a small smile tugging at her lips as she covered them with her hands as an attempt to smother her cries.

They had won.

And Ana Maria knew that Drake and Miguel knew that.

There was nothing that she could do.

            "Yes, Jack, I do. I promise." 

**_To Be Continued…_**

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**AN: I'm horrible, I know. I haven't updated in two months and two days, but I've been trying! Just, this story has caused some _horrid_ writers block. I really am sorry for making you guys wait for so long so often, though. But do not fear! I _am_ finishing this story, and the rest of the plot is already laid down and planned! Prepare for some shocks come the ending. ;) Muahah.**

**But ooh! Cliff hanger! Heehee. Don'tcha love me? :)**

**Umm, I have a job now (woo!) and will, of course, be busier than usual, but Chapter 10 will be up ASAP; probably quite soon, actually. If it wasn't 1:51 AM, I'd start it now. Heh.**

**_Please_**** review!! I will see you guys in Chapter 10!!******

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            __


	10. IMPORTANT AN!

All right, this author's note concerns _Do I Have To Cry For You?_ and what will be happening to it very soon. Everything written below is **extremely important**, and I would advise that you read **every single word**. Ready? Okay.

_ Do I Have To Cry For You?_ is the sequel to my other story, _Lord Knows I Can't Change_, and was posted on October 24, 2003. It was last updated June 27, 2004, and today is March 28, 2005. So as you can see, this particular story hasn't been the most simple to write, and while I have notebooks filled with pages of outlines, timelines and plot ideas, I'm beginning to have my doubts on whether or not this story will ever be concluded. Things were going smoothly until I arrived at chapter four, "Scars That Bleed", and that was when the first of the writer's block hit me. As you all may remember, I went at least two or so months before finally updating in January of 2004, and then another two or so months passed for the "surgery" that I had to do _to_ chapter four, and then yet _another_ two or so months passed between updates. The chapters beyond chapter three are short, chalky, and just not a pleasure to read. They are not very well written, and I apologize for ever posting such horrid work.

_Lord Knows I Can't Change_ was a lot more well-thought-out than _Do I Have To Cry For You,_ and I think it shows. The purpose of _Do I Have To Cry For You?_ was to finish all of what _Lord Knows I Can't Change _did not, and I somehow lost sight of that during my time spent on it. Looking back on it now, though, I realize that I left out a good percentage of everything that I wanted to include when I started it nearly two years ago; for example, a flashback scene explaining how Bootstrap/William arrived back at Isla de Muerta after being thrown overboard by Barbossa to save Jack Sparrow's life in chapter sixteen of _Lord Knows I Can't Change. _I also did not explain Captain Seth Graves significance to the story-line very well; I did not emphasis on just how important he really is, and the same goes with Miguel. I basically just threw Seth into the mix and had Will figure, "Oh, hey, my dad knows this dude!" Originally, at the conclusion of _Lord Knows I Can't Change_ when I was still gathering ideas for its sequel, I was going to write an introduction on Captain Seth Graves, but that never came to pass.

Bottom-line, folks, I'm proud of _Lord Knows I Can't Change_, but not of _Do I Have To Cry For You?._ I want to rewrite it, and I'm going to _attempt_ to rewrite it, but God only knows when and if I will be successful. Until then, though, I will leave the original version up on for any and all to read, and if I do ever rewrite it, I will remove the old version completely and replace it with the new version. If fate has it that I can't rewrite it, though, I will post a summary on how I planned on ending the story, and then lay _Do I Have To Cry For You?_ down to rest.

I'll try, folks, I really will, but don't get your hopes up that my tries will be successful.

Thanks for reading this and for reading my work. If you want to contact me, please go here: http: and either drop me a comment in **the latest public post marked Readers…"**, or check out my user-info for my screen name's/email address.

I will keep you all posted on what comes to pass!

**Liz**

And now to make this post legal, I will post what a friend of mine wrote on the back of a _Pirates of the Caribbean _postcard that she gave me for Christmas.

**Jack:** So… why is the rum gone?

**Will:** I told you. We put it in the egg nog.

**Jack:** Oh.

**The End**


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